Touch Me
by Porcelain-Marionette
Summary: This dance couldn't go on much longer and they both knew it. Stepping out into the crisp night air, gentle wind ruffling her blond hair her grin only widened. The chill that bit at her hands and cheeks made her think about him. It was pleasant."


Soft touch, small smile, white hair, cold eyes... so much to love.

Once in a while, she'll catch a glimpse of it, that slowly dying heart. Once in a while.

A dream she had chased ever since she was small, mother and father, she couldn't remember them. They were shadows in her memory. She couldn't even recall their touch, had they even existed? She wasn't sure anymore. Somehow the closet she had ever had to a mother was Ukraine. It is so hard to ground one's self when you don't have any memories of your parents. Aren't they supposed to make who you are? No Natalia. You make who you are. No one decides that for you. Her brother had said that, once when they were little.

Shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts she fixed the black ribbon that was threaded through her collar. Always perfect, never a flaw, she had to keep it that way. Such weak thoughts weren't meant to be shown to anyone. The red cushions that enveloped her on the couch were warm and comfortable. Far more inviting than that dark and cold place in her mind where her thoughts seemed to love to linger. Why did she have to think about such things.

A knock on the door made her jump, turning to look over her shoulder as the door eased open. Brother? a hopeful plea, but an unlikely one. Uhh... no.... It's Toris... I'm sorry if I'm intruding, but... well... blue eyes narrowed at the man in her doorway. She couldn't stand him, he was annoying, and insolent and yet he was always at her brother's side. Why him? Why him and not her? Her gaze narrowed some more, a hand curling, the crinkling sound of paper made her look down. An old copy of the Pravda was spread out next to her, from the year 1918, the year the paper had made it's way to Moscow. A small smile ghosted on her lips, yes she remembered that year well. Natalia... her name made her snap back to the present, eyes zeroing in on the man, he was stock still in the doorway, not shaking, not cowering, not hiding, not running. He didn't shun her, he didn't avoid her. How come he accepted her and her brother didn't?

What? her voice came out more choked than she had wanted it to, cover it up, cover it up with anger. She rose to her feet and planted both hands on her hips, blue eyes narrowing some more as she glared at the man. What is it? Want me to break another bone Lithuania? Was the leg and fingers not enough? That got a twitch out of him, he backed off at that, good. Her soft smile had been replaced with a grin, she liked being in control of something. If she couldn't make her brother love her than she would make everyone fear her. That was her only option, put distance, instil fear, make them stay away. It was safe that way. Well I wanted to give you something... and bones heal. Man he irked her, she couldn't stand the way he tried so hard to get to her good side. Had he seen it? Was that why he liked her so much? She wasn't blind, she knew the man had a crush her and she hated him even more for it.

For a fleeting moment she let her stern stance soften. Get in here... that seemed to make him jump, he was looking at her as if she had just told him she loved small puppies and freshly baked cookies. It didn't take any more prompting from her for him to enter the room though, the door shutting behind him as he stood by the couch. His eyes went to the paper before drifting back up to her. Did he know the significance of it? No no one did, no one knew her Brother like she did. No one cared enough about him to know him like she did. No one.

Yes? The hands on her hips moved, dropping to her sides as she glared at him. I can't stand you, you know that? I hate your guts and I want you dead, but brother wouldn't like that. He wouldn't be happy... and... Just remember one thing, she had moved closer to him, grabbing him in a hug that made him jolt against her, so warm, but not the same kind of warm as her brother. She had just wanted to try it this once, just so she would know. What it felt like to hug someone you hated. Now I know... it's not warm... not at all. Is this what it's like for him? Her words were lost on Toris as he hugged her back or tried too, she backed away so quickly he stumbled forwards, his hands reaching out to grab something. Instead he was caught by the wrist by Belarus. Her small ivory white hand gripping his wrist with more strength than anyone would have thought possible for her. She was like a delicate little flower to him. No one else saw it, but he did. She just needed someone to accept her and he tried. So hard. Was it all in vain though? Those thoughts were fleeting for him as pain shot up his arm, his hand bent at the wrong angle as Belarus dropped his wrist and turned away. He stood for a moment, letting the pain sink in and cradling the broken limb to his chest. She was cold, but he still loved her. Why he didn't know... did anyone know why they loved someone? Leave, now... or I'll break more than just your wrist. I'll send you back to Ivan so broken and bloody he wont even have you to rely on, then he'll have to come to me. Even though he never will...

She heard the door open and close again, then her world quieted. No, now was not the time to let her emotions get the better of her, she had to go see her brother. Pushing blond hair back off her shoulders she straightened her skirts and left her small parlour, it wasn't till she was half way down the hallway, the entry way insight that it hit her. Who had let that annoying jerk in here? Her eyes darted back and forth, couldn't have been any of the others, why would they let him in? Someone would pay for it she was sure of that, but right now... she had someone to go see. With a widening grin on her face she brushed the thoughts from earlier to the back of her mind, they would come up. She had to ask him. They needed to be brought up she couldn't let this go on any longer. How long could they continue this dance? Forever if they didn't do anything about it.

This dance couldn't go on much longer and they both knew it. Stepping out into the crisp night air, gentle wind ruffling her blond hair her grin only widened. The chill that bit at her hands and cheeks made her think about him. It was pleasant. Natalia pulled on a pair of black leather gloves to fight on the numb feeling in her fingers.

Today is today, not yesterday, more words from her past, but who had said them? She couldn't remember anymore. Why was it so important to remember these things today? She glared down at the light dusting of snow that her feet crunched through as she walked. So much noise today. Kicking a large rock that was in her way she watched it skitter along the cobble stones, jumping as it hit cracks and sliding when it found buried ice. When she finally caught up to it again she was staring down at it and gave it another good kick, sending it even farther this time. It almost bounced back once before it hit another rock that sent it forwards again till it finally settled in a wide crack and even her hardest kick couldn't move it. She stooped, one gloved hand reaching down as she plucked the rock from it's resting place and tossed it. Natalia threw the offending thing as far away from her as she could, it wasn't till it bounced against the ground and rolled through a thin coat of snow that she blinked. Her eyes stung with the chilling wind as she stared at the rock, not with hate anymore but with sympathy. Something tickled her cheek and she lifted a finger to brush at it. The leather clad limb came away wet and she blinked, was she crying? Why? It was a rock, it didn't have any feelings, it had offended her and she wanted it as far away as pos- oh... a snow flake landed on the end of her nose, making her shiver. She had never actually been cold before. Not till this moment. Oh....

For some reason she felt her legs buckle under her, knees hitting hard ground, something cold burned her skin. Her hands fell to her thighs and her head fell back, eyes locked on the endless grey sky as snow flakes landed on her cheeks, nose, eye lids, lips... nothing was warm anymore, everything was cold. So cold. Today is today, not yesterday... who had... no... no use... she couldn't remember. So cold.

Notes: Well I hope I can continue this one, I'm really into Belarus as of late and I kind of really bad for her. Who wouldn't? Well maybe it's just me.

Pravda: A leading newspaper of the Soviet Union between 1912 and 1991. It was used by the Central Committee of the Communist party. It gained popularity during the Cold War for its pronouncements as the official voice of Soviet Communism.

1918: The year the Pravda made it to Moscow. Why this year is special to Natalia... you'll find out. Soon.

Alright I think that's all the little notes I had to throw in here, hope you enjoy the minor angst in this chapter. Maybe the next one will involve some fan service ? 


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